Late
by DJEsper
Summary: First fic. Non-magical, definitely OOC, Coffee shop/Cafe AU. Tom Riddle prides himself on never being late for work. As they say though, there's a first time for everything.


As unthinkable as it may have been, Tom was in a rush that morning.

Overnight, the power had temporarily gone out, ruling his alarm clock useless and causing his tardiness. He was furious, of course. He continuously berated himself that morning on how he could have possibly let such an unacceptable occasion occur. Hastily, he took his morning shower and donned his business suit, smoothing out any wrinkles. Giving barely a thought to the cold season, his coat and scarf came next, both quickly arranged and settled. He grabbed his keys and phone before finally making his way out of his apartment. He gathered himself together as he stepped out, regaining his frazzled confidence and getting rid of any sign that would indicate that he was, indeed, late for work.

It was when he past the small inconspicuous café that he realized he had forgotten his breakfast. The decision was quick and obvious, stepping through the door of the café.

His first impression was that it was cramped. The interior was filled with an array of seating areas, many of which were already occupied by students rushing to finish assignments and the occasional individual simply enjoying a morning read. There were several decorations that appeared to be completely out of place, yet somehow fit in with the 'homey' theme that the café seemed to give off.

After his initial survey of the shop, Tom quickly made his way to the, thankfully, short line at the counter. He looked up at the menu, ignoring many of the more indulgent drinks and decided to settle for something simpler. With his drink chosen, he paid no mind to the other patrons and simply pulled out his phone to check his morning emails.

When it was his turn, he stored his phone away and finally looked up to the barista. While he knows it couldn't have possibly been more than a moment or two, he could have sworn time slowed down when his pale blue eyes met piercing emerald hidden behind atrocious round glasses. The man behind the counter stood there in all his oblivious glory. An alluring face was framed by a head of hair that practically screamed 'just shagged'. He had a scar on his forehead, peeking out from behind his bangs in what appeared to be the shape of a lightning bolt. It only added to the man's appeal and Tom surely knew he would bring nothing but trouble. Especially when he smiled at him from behind the counter. It radiated a feeling of warmth and welcome that had Tom feeling something he'd never felt before, yet also feeling vaguely discomforted by the newness. He finally glanced at the man's nametag. It simply read, 'Harry'.

When Harry opened his mouth and spoke, Tom's moment of appraisal was over. He looked Harry in the eye, refusing to let his eyes linger on the other, more appealing parts of his body.

"Hello, what can I get for you?" Harry's voice was everything Tom hoped it wouldn't be for the sake of his sanity. He casually cleared his throat, and replied as simply and carefully as his could with the current state his mind was in.

"A medium black, one pump cinnamon. And an apple." His brief pause was barely noticeable, yet he mentally scolded himself for acting so ridiculous for no reason. He told himself to ignore the attractive barista as best he could until their interactions were over. Then he could be on his way and never have to deal with any wayward emotions the man in front of him may cause.

Harry put in his order and rang up the total. After paying, Tom watched as Harry grabbed the cup that was to be his and pulled a marker from the pocket of his apron.

"And your name, sir?"

"Tom Riddle."

Harry's smile briefly widened before relaxing as he wrote down Tom's name on the cup. His eyes flickered up to Tom's before looking back down at the cup.

"Your order will be ready momentarily, Mr. Riddle."

The way Harry said his name almost convinced him that visits back to this particular café were in his future. Almost.

And yet all he did was nod in acknowledgement and walk to where the other patrons awaited their orders as well. He pulled out his phone again, but this time he barely paid it any attention. His thoughts all remained with the enticing dark haired barista. Tom would guess he was only a few years younger than himself, nothing too scandalous, and he certainly seemed mature enough to know what he was doing… But no. Tom mentally shook his head and made a firm statement that any and all thoughts of Harry were no longer welcomed. He'd already made enough of a fool of himself this morning, there really was no need to add anything else to further worsen it. Tom's inner war raged on until the sound of his name being called out interrupted it. Harry stood at the pickup counter, placing the lid on Tom's steaming cup of black coffee next to his apple. As Tom approached and accepted both, he ignored the brushing of their hands and the weird and fuzzy feeling it brought to his stomach. What he couldn't ignore was the obvious wink and wicked smile Harry gave him. Years later, he'd still refuse to admit he ran away, but his eyes widened and he turned around and left with his purchases, giving no thanks and refusing to look back.

And when he finally looked down at his cup and saw the phone number haphazardly written just below his own name, well, perhaps he'll go back and revise his earlier statement about never returned to the quaint little café. Maybe being late just this once wasn't so bad after all.


End file.
